


Ex Tempore

by MaryRoyale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gift Fic, Granger Enchanted Fic Exchange, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryRoyale/pseuds/MaryRoyale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was definitely not in her job description. And yet, here she was, Deputy Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and somehow doing a job better suited to an Unspeakable. How on earth did she get assigned to helping Salazar Slytherin get settled into life in the twenty-first century? And how in Merlin's name was she going to manage all that on top of her regular duties?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This was not in my job description

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meiri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meiri/gifts).



> This piece was for a Granger Enchanted Fic Exchange and was written for Meiri. They've done the author reveal so it's safe for me to cross post it now.
> 
> All thanks and long-distance e-hugs go to Auntie_L, beta extraordinaire. I can't tell you how awesome she is without sounding creepy and a little stalkerish. (But, seriously, she is SOOOO amazing.)

“Granger!”

The piercing bellow of the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures echoed down the hall. Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration. She glanced at the towering pile of paperwork on her desk and sighed. _Another late night ahead of me. Brilliant._ She snatched her robes off of the back of her chair and struggled into them as she hurried down the hall.

“You called, Mr. Nithercott?” Hermione poked her head into her superior’s office cautiously. In the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures it didn’t pay to stride into any room without checking it carefully first.

“The Auror Department is asking for a consultation,” he snapped irritably. “I don’t have time to go traipsing about the Fens this time of night. I want you to go find out what those idiots are nattering on about, and if it’s a kneazle up a tree, I swear to Merlin Granger…”

“Yes sir.” Hermione nodded in agreement. There were so many dangerous magical creatures out there that had to be sedated, caught, and then moved to sanctuaries with the greatest possible care because they could kill you ten different ways; to be called out for a missing crup or a kneazle was an insult to what their department truly did.

“Get your go-bag, Granger, and go find out what the hell they’re up to now,” Nithercott ordered.

“Yes sir.”

 

/\/\/\/\

 

When Hermione arrived at the appointed spot she immediately knew that whatever was going on… it probably didn’t involve a kneazle or a crup. The entire area was boiling with Aurors in their distinctive red robes, and milling among them were several people that Hermione recognized from a variety of departments. Hermione even spotted several Unspeakables, which usually was rather difficult to do given that their robes were so heavily enchanted that one’s eyes slid right past them. Maybe a wild dragon? It did happen from time to time, and those cases always received top priority. She frowned and looked for a familiar face.

“Deputy Head Granger!”

“Minister Shacklebolt.” Hermione tried to hide her surprise. _What is Kingsley doing here_?

There were very few reasons that would require the presence of the Minister of Magic. Automatically, her eyes began scanning the crowd for a familiar messy head of black hair. Adrenaline began to course through her veins when she couldn’t spot him immediately.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Kingsley demanded with a frown drawing her attention back to him.

“I was told that the Auror Department requested a consultation with the DRCMC,” Hermione replied with a shrug.

“A consult? With the DRCMC?” Kingsley frowned. “I mean no slight to you, Deputy Head Granger, but why would we need you?”

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared up at the Minister of Magic. “I have no idea, sir. I’m not certain as to what’s going on right now. Perhaps if someone could brief me?”

The Minister’s lips twitched slightly. “Maybe we should. Let’s go find the Head of the DMLE. He’s in charge of this debacle.”

“What’s going on, Kingsley?” Hermione asked quietly after glancing about to make sure no one was too close.

“I wish I knew, Hermione,” The Minister muttered at her. He strode off and Hermione hurried to keep up with them.

There was a motley group of wizards made up of every possible department at the Ministry of Magic. Most of them appeared to be arguing with one another heatedly, and relief coursed through Hermione when she spotted Harry dead center glaring furiously at Nott from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. The Department of Runes & Symbols was gesticulating and arguing loudly with the Head of the Department of Security and the Department of Defence.

“See here, Goolsby,” Caradoc Blott snapped furiously. “My department’s main responsibility is making sure that all published texts pertaining to Runes and Symbols are accurately translated, and conform to the specifications required of the individual year level for textbooks. It doesn’t mean that I’m some sort of linguistic genius able to converse in any and all languages both alive and dead!”

When the group spotted the Minister of Magic everyone grew silent, except for the harsh breathing of the livid Head of Runes & Symbols. Into that strained silence Hermione heard a deep voice drawl in Old English.

“On all sides am I beset by stupidity. Morgana, why have you forsaken me?”

It was impossible to suppress the amused snort, but Hermione was surprised when the entire group, including the Minister standing next to her, turned to stare at her.

“You could understand him?” Caius Flint, Head of the Department of Security demanded.

“I… yes, of course,” Hermione murmured and looked to Harry for help. “Harry, what’s going on?”

“What language is he speaking?” Caradoc Blott interrupted urgently.

“It was Old English,” Hermione explained with another worried frown in Harry’s direction.

Understanding flashed in Harry’s eyes. “Those courses you studied at University.”

Hermione nodded. “What’s going on? Who is ‘he’?” She asked with another look around the assembled men.

Everyone turned to Theodore Nott, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, who flushed and scowled at the group.

“It isn’t as though this is _my_ fault,” he burst out. “We aren’t responsible for this—it’s only that we have to clean up after the idiots that make the mess!”

“What mess?” Hermione pressed.

Nott sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Some idiot Seventh Years who just turned seventeen decided that their first act of adult magic ought to be something… really big.”

“Not to mention dangerous and horribly illegal,” Harry added in a coldly furious voice and he glared at a group of three or four teenagers cowering behind a group of Aurors across the way.

“I don’t understand.” Hermione frowned in confusion.

Obviously this group of teenagers had accidentally hexed someone so that they could only speak in a dead language. That wasn’t that awful. She knew people who would do that at parties to make games more challenging, but it certainly wasn’t dangerous or illegal.

“They tried to perform a Summoning spell, Hermione,” Harry explained.

“An _Accio_ where the caster ends up speaking Old English?” Hermione whistled and shook her head. “No wonder they called you, Nott.”

“No,” Harry corrected her grimly. “ _Accito Mortuis_.”

“Oh!” Hermione gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. Summoning the dead was definitely dangerous and highly illegal.

“We need you to determine if the being summoned is Inferi, or some other form of undead being,” Caius Flint added.

“I see,” Hermione said slowly. “Where is the…”

The group parted revealing a person who had been bound with _Incarcerous_. An abundance of thick ropes were wrapped around him so firmly that only his head and feet were visible. He was scowling at her fiercely. She knelt down and peered at his skin. It was swarthy, which might be from the sun. She looked up into stormy green eyes that were glaring at her coldly.

“Is there something I can help you with, woman?” He sneered at her in Old English.

“You were… called from death. These wizards are trying to decide if you are…,” Hermione wracked her brain for the proper word in Old English, but there really wasn’t one. “ _Samstorfen **[1]**_ ,” she offered at last.

He growled at her. “I am not _Inferi_ , nor am I an illusion, a ghost, a shadow-goer, or a nightcrawler. I am Salazar Slytherin, and I demand you unbind me at once!”

Hermione gasped and flinched back from him automatically. She saw the surprise in his eyes, but he quickly assumed a neutral expression.

“Hermione?” Harry hurried to her side, worry thick in his voice.

She clutched at Harry’s hand. “He…he says he’s Salazar Slytherin.”

The collective gasp of the group around them was soon drowned out by an excited buzz of voices.

“Deputy Head Granger, are you certain,” Flint asked cautiously.

“Am I certain that is what he said? Yes, actually. Am I certain that he is, indeed, Salazar Slytherin?” Hermione bit her lip and shrugged. “No, of course not. No one alive would be able to make that determination with any degree of accuracy.”

The voices swelled, each speaker determined that he or she be heard.

“Enough!” Minister Shacklebolt barked. He turned to Flint and Alfric Goolsby, Head of the Department of Defence. “Would _veritaserum_ work?”

“Technically, yes,” Flint allowed. “Except for the fact that we can’t speak Old English and he can’t speak Modern English.”

“In addition, if he truly believes that he is Salazar Slytherin it would interfere with the _veritaserum_ results because he would believe it to be the truth,” Goolsby added.

“So there’s no way to ascertain if this wizard truly is Salazar Slytherin?” Minister Shacklebolt asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Flint retorted.

“Hogwarts might be able to help us,” suggested a slender wizard with a thoughtful expression.

“Hogwarts!” Hermione cried out. She turned to Harry who was watching her warily. “The Chamber. No one but you, Ron, Ginny, and me really know what it looks like.”

Harry was already nodding in agreement. “So, what, we have him describe it, and then you can tell if he’s right or not? Hermione, we never really have time to investigate it in depth.”

“Yes, exactly.” Hermione turned to Kingsley. “Minister?”

“Wait, when you say ‘the Chamber’… do you mean what I think you mean?” Flint demanded.

“Do it,” Kingsley told Harry and Hermione.

Hermione turned to the bound wizard and chewed on her lip for a moment while she tried to figure out how to say what she needed to say in Old English. “The… the room that you built in Hogwarts, the room of secrets--,” she began carefully.

“I will not tell you how to enter it,” he interrupted her with a scowl.

“We don’t care about that,” Hermione retorted dismissively. “I would like you to describe it to me.”

The wizard stared at her for a moment in surprise. “You’ve been there before?”

Hermione’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Yes. Once.” She pointed to Harry. “So has he. You will describe it to us, and we will verify your account.”

The wizard’s eyes flicked to Harry. “He has the tongue of snakes?”

“Not anymore.” Hermione’s jaw snapped shut and she looked down at her hands. They had clenched into fists, and she consciously released them and smoothed out her robes.

“There is a large statue of Merlin,” the wizard muttered with a sullen expression.

“A statue of Merlin?” Hermione translated for Harry. “Do you think it was that large statue of a wizard?”

Harry shrugged. “The big statue of a wizard with long hair and a beard? To be honest, I thought it was him. Er, Salazar Slytherin, I mean.”

Hermione turned back to the wizard. “What else can you tell me?”

“There were pillars that I decorated with snakes,” he began slowly and Hermione translated haltingly, looking up at Harry for his input every so often.

“That sounds like the chamber,” Harry admitted after a half an hour of interrogation. Hermione nodded her agreement. He looked up at Kingsley Shacklebolt. “Unless we find some sort of evidence to the contrary... I think he might be Salazar Slytherin, sir.”

Kingsley turned to stare at the bound wizard and then turned to stare at the wizards and witches surrounding them.

“What do we do with him?” Kingsley muttered aloud.

“We welcome him back to the wizarding world with open arms,” A witch said firmly. “He’s one of the Founders of Hogwarts, a legendary wizard!”

“Yeah, but he can’t even speak English,” protested Harry.

“And he doesn’t know about the Statute of Secrecy,” Hermione added. “That was passed in 1689.”

“He’ll need a handler,” Flint observed and exchanged a significant look with Goolsby.

“Someone who will be able to communicate all of the minutiae of our modern laws,” Goolsby suggested. “And maybe teach him modern English.”

“I think Head Deputy Granger would be the best candidate,” Flint decided.

“What?” Hermione screeched.

Arguing with Kingsley, Harry, and the rest of the wizards did nothing.

“You are the only person able to communicate with him easily, Hermione,” Harry explained. “It’s perfect.”

“Perfectly ridiculous,” Hermione declared with a mutinous expression.

“Head Deputy Granger, it’s getting late. Perhaps we could continue this discussion in the morning,” Minister Shacklebolt suggested.

Hermione made a disgusted noise in her throat and turned to face Salazar Slytherin. He tensed when she pulled out her wand, but he relaxed when she cancelled the _Incarcerous_ and the thick ropes binding him fell away. He stood carefully towering over her. Hermione stared up at him with a sense of shock. His broad shoulders filled the whole of her vision, and she shook herself when she realized that she was staring at his chest. She risked a glance up to see him watching her with green eyes filled with curiosity.

“What is happening?” He asked her casting a suspicious scowl at the group that surrounded them.

“Er,” Hermione frantically tried to think of a way to explain the current situation. “You have been placed in my care,” she tried with a tentative smile.

His scowl grew darker. “I have been given to you?” He asked carefully.

Hermione gave him a pained smile. “Just for a little while,” she assured him. “Just long enough for you to understand our time… and our language.”

“How long will this take?” He demanded.

“I… I’m not sure,” Hermione confessed. She looked up and he was glaring at her furiously. “Are you quick to learn?”

“I am no _læwede **[i]**_ ,” he snapped. He sniffed imperiously. “Show me to your dwelling so that you can begin to teach me at once.”

 

/\/\/\/\

 

Light emanated from the glass globe next to him. Salazar pressed the button that sent the room into darkness and then pressed it again. He did this for the next ten minutes. Light. Darkness. Light. It was amazing.

The witch to whom he had been given sighed loudly. “Mr. Slytherin.”

Salazar frowned. “What language is that?”

“It’s Modern English,” the witch explained. Her cheeks flushed prettily. “I feel odd calling you ‘Salazar’.”

Salazar’s frown deepened. “It is my name. I would feel more odd were you to call me ‘Rowena’ or ‘Helga’.”

The witch shook her head. “In this time, we call people by their family name unless we know them well.”

“Family name? I don’t know what that means,” Salazar argued. He shook his head. “You may call me Salazar. It is what I am used to, after all.”

“Salazar, then,” the witch agreed. She bit her lip and wrung her hands together.

He looked over at her haughtily. “What do you want, woman?”

Her cheeks turned pink again. “There’s a lot more I need to show you.”

The ‘refrigerator’ was unimpressive—it accomplished the same thing that a preservative charm did. He was, however, intrigued by the ‘cooker’ and its ability to heat food that the witch had prepared for them.

“This is the bathroom,” the witch paused thoughtfully and frowned up at him. “But there are toilets and baths at Hogwarts, so I imagine you understand the basic functions.”

It was true, Hogwarts did have most of what she was showing him, except for the ‘lamp’. Salazar had modeled many of Hogwarts’ marvels on Roman technology from books that he had collected. Still, to see all of these things in such a small home, and not a keep or a castle was impressive.

“How long has this place been in your family?” He asked curiously.

The witch froze. “My… my parents bought it,” she said in a soft voice.

“Where is your family’s estate?” He asked. He could feel the witch growing uneasy and it made his spine tingle. Why was she nervous?

“We don’t have one,” the witch replied. She wrung her hands helplessly.

Salazar frowned. Did the witch think he would judge her for that? Witches and wizards came from all stations. They had some who came from noble families and some who came from shepherds and weavers. He looked around the house carefully.

“Your parents have done well. No doubt you will continue to add to your family’s prestige,” Salazar said as diplomatically as he could.

A fleeting smile curved the witch’s lips. “I suppose so. Granger _is_ a household name in the wizarding world.”

“Granger. This is your name?” He asked.

A look of confusion, followed swiftly by surprise, and finally embarrassment crossed the witch’s face. “I… I never told you, did I? I beg your pardon. My name is Hermione, actually.”

“Hermione,” he repeated. A thought struck him. “Were you named for the Roman goddess of Harmony?”

“No… I was named after a character in a play by a man named Shakespeare,” Hermione explained. Her nose wrinkled in a way that he found strangely attractive. “I suppose you’ll learn about him soon enough.”

“I see.”

“Are you hungry?” She grimaced slightly. “We’ve already eaten everything that I had in the house. We’ll have to pick up something to eat.”

The next half hour Hermione spent explaining what ‘take-away’ was, and also what ‘pizza’ and ‘curry’ were. All of it sounded interesting, and he was incredibly hungry. He stomach rumbled loudly in the room.

“All of it,” he decided. “I will try all of it.”

Hermione blinked at him. “O—kay. I can… yes, we can probably do that.”

When the witch began to disrobe he could feel his eyes widen in shock. “Woman, Hermione, what are you doing?”

Hermione froze and stared at him in surprise. “What?”

“You can’t go out in public like that!” He protested.

“Well I can’t go out with these robes on,” Hermione pointed out.

“Why not?” Salazar asked.

“The Statute of Secrecy.” She paused and frowned at him. “We’ll have to talk about that in detail as soon as possible.”

Hermione continued to disrobe until she was wearing a skirt that showed her knees to him, and a thin tunic that appeared to be made of silk. Salazar tried to avert his gaze, but his eyes were continually drawn back to the curve of her breasts, and the swell of her hips. The sight of her well-formed calves was enough to make his mouth dry. She turned and frowned at him.

“You can’t go out like that… and I doubt I have anything that would come close to fitting you properly. I suppose that we’ll have to transfigure something for you.” She nodded to herself and pulled out her wand.

He tensed automatically—he couldn’t help it—but the witch noticed and slid her wand back into her holster.

“I need to transfigure your clothes. I would have you do it, but you have no idea what people are wearing these days. I swear to you that I will not hurt you,” Hermione promised.

“Very well,” he sneered and he stood still as she cast the spells on him.

Leg coverings of a strange blue fabric and a soft stretchy tunic that fell to his waist replaced his clothes. He frowned down at himself and then looked up at Hermione.

“ _This_ is what people wear now?” He drawled with an arched eyebrow.

Hermione shrugged. “For the most part… yes. Now let’s go find some of everything.”

Side-along apparition was something that Salazar had never experienced before, and he rather hoped to never experience again. Hermione had brought him to a bustling street which had many different types of food. Light was everywhere, and signs written in a number of different languages. He recognized Chinese and Arabic, but there were several he didn’t know. The thing that struck him the most was that everywhere he looked… people were _reading_. There were people with small books, people with broadsheets, and people reading little signs in the restaurants windows, but all of them were reading.

 

“Hermione… are all of these people Muggles?” He asked in amazement.

Hermione glanced around and then looked back up at him. “It’s more people than you’re used to, isn’t it?” She asked worriedly. “I know that in the year 1000 London only had 10,000 residents, but I didn’t really think about how that might affect you now. Is it too many people?”

He shook his head, still staring at all of the people around him. “No, it is just that all of them can read.”

Hermione stared up at him in surprise. “I hadn’t considered that. Where you come from most people could not read, could they?”

“Muggles,” Salazar snapped. He sniffed slightly and lifted his chin. “Magical children are… were all taught to read from a young age. Usually Latin and Runes to begin, and then other languages later as the need arose. Even those that came from poorer families still made sure that their children could read and write before they came to Hogwarts.”

An expression flitted across the witch’s face, but Salazar wasn’t certain what it meant. Her dark amber eyes narrowed on him and her jaw tightened. He saw her wand hand twitch, and then he watched her take several slow, even breaths to calm herself. His fingers automatically sought his own wand in the special holster that she had given to him.

“We need to get food,” she muttered with a shake of her head. “After we do that we can go back to my place, and talk.”

With the overwhelming feeling that somehow he was in trouble, but utterly stumped as to what he had done wrong, Salazar followed the witch down the street. Hermione bought the promised pizza and curry, but she also purchased Chinese food, Lebanese food, and something called sushi. She went into so many different restaurants, and each restaurant had a different language and different food. Salazar couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the different people of all shapes and sizes, in all colors, mingling. He shook his head and followed Hermione in a daze.

 

/\/\/\/\

 

“Now, the Statute of Secrecy was passed in 1689 by the International Confederation of Wizards, and it went into effect in 1692,” Hermione began while Salazar was inhaling lamb kefta and baba ganoush. She frowned for a moment. “I suppose so that they could form Obliviation squads, and develop teams to fix whatever happened.”

“What is this Obliviation?” Salazar demanded with a scowl.

Hermione made a face. “It’s… well, it’s a spell that makes people forget. You can use it on Muggles or on wizards. The Obliviation squad uses the spell to make sure that Muggles forget that they saw magic.”

His scowl grew. “That seems dangerous.”

Hermione nodded. “It can be if it’s used improperly, but can’t that be said of most spells?”

He glared at her, his mossy green eyes cold, but then he gave her a small nod. “This is true,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Now, thanks to the miracles of soap, hand-washing, and indoor plumbing—not to mention antibiotics and vaccines—Muggles are rather greater in number than they once were. The wizarding community has done all that it can to remain hidden so that the Muggles have no idea we exist,” Hermione continued.

Salazar gave a short, sharp laugh. “So they no longer believe in witches?” He asked in disbelief.

Hermione shook her head. “No, they don’t. We’re just stories to them now.”

“Surely even Muggles can’t be that gullible,” he protested.

Hermione glared at him for a moment while she tried to calm herself down. “The Muggles of today are intelligent and well-educated. They study things that the wizarding world either can’t or refuses to study.”

Salazar frowned. “What could we not study that Muggles could?”

Hermione grimaced slightly. This was going to be difficult to explain. “You like my lamp, right? The light that switches on and off?” At Salazar’s suspicious nod she continued. “That lamp uses electricity. It is an… energy… that powers many Muggle things. Those lights you saw tonight. The signs, my cooker, the refrigerator, all of those things run on electricity.”

“What difference does this make?” Salazar sneered impatiently.

“Our magic interferes with the electrical current. Now, with smaller things—simpler things—like the lamp and the refrigerator it doesn’t really matter. Things that require greater amounts of electricity—things that are more delicate—do not react well to magic. For the most part, we can control it. We can try not to use magic around these things, but as you know our emotions can make our magic flare without our intention. It is almost impossible for wizards or witches to study computer science or to go into modern medicine. Being emotional near someone who has a pacemaker, for instance, could kill them,” Hermione explained carefully.

“A pacemaker?” Salazar repeated the unfamiliar word carefully.

“It’s a machine that helps regulate your heart,” Hermione explained.

Salazar stared at her in shock. “Muggles can do this?” Disbelief was thick in his voice.

“They can do that and so much more,” Hermione assured him.

He shook his head. “It was always so hard with the Muggleborn students,” he muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “None of them could read, let alone do any simple math. They were all so… so ignorant that it took forever just to get them to the point where they could sit in on a regular class.”

A sudden flash of inspiration hit Hermione. “Was that your main objection to accepting Muggleborn students into Hogwarts? Were you upset that they were illiterate and couldn’t sit in on classes with the children from wizarding families?”

Salazar frowned at her. “Of course. One would have to spend months teaching them to read and write in Latin and Runes. What were we supposed to do with the children from wizarding families? Make them sit and stare at the wall for a year? It detracted from the education of my other students. How was that fair to them?”

“I see,” Hermione murmured almost to herself.

“Helga insisted that the wizarding children could help teach their fellow classmates, but that would have been a colossal waste of their time,” Salazar continued. He gave an imperious sniff. “My students were always far more advanced than of any of the other Houses because they were able to focus on their studies.”

“I suppose that would be true,” Hermione admitted. She briefly wondered how much more she would have been able to accomplish if she hadn’t had to help Ron so much with his lessons. She bit her lip. “Still, don’t you think that all magical children have the right to learn?”

One of Salazar’s dark brows rose and her stared at her haughtily. “I said nothing against Godric, Helga, or Rowena taking in the dunderheaded dolts. I simply refused to put up with their ignorance myself.”

“What if the students were eager and willing to learn?” Hermione asked quietly.

Salazar’s lip curled. “I will tell you this: in my time at Hogwarts many of thoseborn to Muggles were eager to learn the magic and how to use their wands, but none of them wanted to put in the time and effort to learn to read and write. They felt it was a waste of time, and that we should just get on with the important part—never realizing that the reading and writing was just as important as the foolish wand waving!”

A shiver went down Hermione’s spine. Salazar’s passion for education and teaching was impressive… and also eerily familiar.

“I see,” she murmured. She grimaced slightly and shook her head. “Harry will never let me hear the end of this, but I agree with you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] OE ‘half-dead’—the Anglo-Saxons didn’t really have a word for, or even a concept of, zombies, liches, the undead, etc.

 

[i] OE ‘foolish, ignorant, unlearned’. The Anglo-Saxons didn’t have a word for illiterate because that was basically everyone. This word seemed to come the closest to the meaning I wanted.


	2. Finding our way together

“Granger!”

There were days that Hermione measured by the volume and duration of her superior’s bellows down the hall. Today was an 8.

“He’s in fine form today,” Sally-Anne Perks muttered as Hermione passed her in the hall.

She gave a short nod to show that she’d heard and straightened her shoulders before she entered her superior’s office.

One might assume that dealing with Salazar Slytherin and helping him acclimate to the current century was more than enough for any one person, but one must also account for the Ministry of Magic, who appear to despise logic and reason with a deep, abiding passion. Hermione was not surprised when her superior expected her to fulfill all of her regular duties and responsibilities on top of trying to help Salazar Slytherin. With a sigh, she accepted the towering pile of folders and carried them back to her office.

“Granger, go home.” Terry Boot was leaning against her door frame frowning at her. “It’s past nine. Everyone’s gone home but us.”

Hermione looked up blearily and blinked at Boot in confusion. “Past nine? It can’t be; I’ve only just come back from lunch.”

“That was eight hours ago, Granger,” Boot countered.

Hermione rubbed at her eyes and stretched in her seat. The aching muscles in her neck and back protested. “I suppose I should go,” she muttered. She scowled at the looming paperwork. “That will all still be there tomorrow.”

“Truer words,” Boot muttered in agreement. He stood up and gave Hermione a little salute. “See you tomorrow, Granger.”

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. “You too, Boot.”

A quick stop at the market and Hermione grabbed a few things for dinner. She Apparated back to her house, and managed to get the door open despite the fact that her hands were full.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, WOMAN?”

For one confused moment, Hermione thought that it was Harry because no one else she knew bellowed quite like that, although Harry had never bellowed at her in Old English. Then she turned toward the voice and froze. _Salazar Slytherin was in her living room_. To her eternal embarrassment, she had forgotten about him. She had so much to do, and Nithercott had been in such a tizzy, that she had completely dismissed the fact that Salazar Slytherin had been left alone all day in her house.

Bulging arms were crossed over a thickly muscled chest. Furious green-gold eyes were glaring at her. Anger was evident in every rigid line of Salazar Slytherin’s imposing frame. He stood with his feet planted as though he were bracing himself for battle. Hermione managed to tear her eyes away from his broad shoulders and tried to focus on his questions. She swallowed hard and shook her head. _Focus, Granger_.

“I… was at work,” she managed to get out, and she hurried to the kitchen so that he wouldn’t see the brilliant red blush she could feel rising to her neck and face.

“AT WORK?” Salazar bellowed from the living room and then stomped after her into the kitchen. “I have been alone all day,” he complained loudly as he followed her. “Are you not meant to help me learn the ways of this time? How am I supposed to take part in society if I am to be kept locked up in your home all day?”

Hermione set down her packages and then turned to frown up at him. “How should I know?” She began to put things away and gestured with a bag of carrots. “Apparently, they expect me to fulfill all my regular duties and obligations while at the same time I am to teach you everything you need to know to get along in this century.” She made a disparaging sound in the back of her throat. “There are only so many hours in a day. It isn’t as though I’ve got a Time Turner at my disposal.”

His scowl only grew deeper. “You will take me with you to this work,” Salazar commanded imperiously. “I will help you complete your tasks and then you will help me.”

“It’s not that simple,” she protested. The thought of being with Salazar all day, every day, made her knees slightly weak. She tried valiantly to push those thoughts away and focus on the matter at hand. The carrots waved wildly in an expression of her frustration. “You… you can’t even speak English.”

“Teach me,” he demanded. He pointed to the carrots. “What call you those?”

“ _Carrots_ ,” she enunciated clearly and distinctly.

“Carrots,” he repeated with a frown of concentration.

They put away the rest of the groceries like that; Hermione would say the name of the item and Salazar would repeat it carefully. Then as Hermione began to prepare dinner for the two of them, she told him the name of each ingredient. Salazar was an eager, industrious pupil. Once he began to learn, it was as though he didn’t want to stop. He grew frustrated when Hermione begged off to bed.

“Please,” she pled with him. “Let me just get a few hours of sleep, and then we can do this before breakfast as well.”

“Very well,” Salazar grumbled.

 

/\/\/\/\

 

“What is that?” Salazar’s imperious voice rang out in Hermione’s small office.

She looked up from her paperwork in surprise. “What are you doing here?” She paused and frowned up at him. “ _How_ did you get here?”

“Sorry, Hermione.” Harry poked his head into her office. “He found your mirror and he wouldn’t stop pestering me until I brought him to you.”

Hermione’s brow crinkled in confusion. “But… you don’t speak Old English.”

“I didn’t have to,” Harry retorted. “He just kept saying ‘Take me to Hermione Granger now’ over and over.”

Hermione sighed and put her head in her hands. She had taught him the phrase just in case he ever got lost. She had never expected that he would use it this way. Then again, she supposed that she should have done. He _was_ the original Slytherin.

“What is that?” Salazar repeated impatiently.

“That is the work I have to complete before I can come home,” Hermione explained. She turned to Harry. “What on earth am I supposed to do with him?”

“I don’t know.” Harry threw his hands in the air. “All I know is that he was driving me crazy and I have a group of Auror trainees who are waiting rather impatiently for my return.”

“That’s fine, Harry, thank you for… taking care of him,” Hermione sighed. She leaned forward and kissed him absently on the cheek. “Tell Ginny I’ll Floo Call her this weekend.”

Hermione turned to look at Salazar who was scowling at the huge stack of paperwork on her desk. Suddenly the pile burst into flames. Hermione shrieked and cast an _Aguamenti_. The flames sputtered and then shot higher. Hermione gave a cry of surprise.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hermione leaped forward and tried batting at the flames for all the good it did her. In the span of a few minutes her mountain of paperwork was reduced to a pile of ash.

“There,” Salazar declared with a smug smirk. “Now you can teach me.”

“Are you mad?” Hermione shrieked. “You can’t set my paperwork on fire! I can’t drop everything to wait on you hand and foot, you—you Slytherin bastard!”

“I am not a bastard,” Salazar pointed out mildly. “My mother and father were married.”

“Am I interrupting?”

The silky drawl made Hermione’s spine straighten automatically and she turned with a sense of dread to face Blaise Zabini, who was eyeing her with cool curiosity.

“Who is this wizard?” Salazar demanded arrogantly in Old English.

Hermione suppressed the urge to tug on her hair. “This is Blaise Zabini,” she bit out between clenched teeth enunciating clearly in English. “Mr. Zabini, I’m sure you know of Salazar Slytherin.”

Blaise bowed gracefully. “It is my honour.”

Salazar eyed Blaise Zabini suspiciously. “Will you be kissing this wizard, too?” He demanded in Old English.

Hermione flushed and glared at him. “Of course not,” she snapped back in the same language.

“Good,” Salazar growled in English.

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. “For Merlin’s sake!”

“Could I be of assistance?” Blaise practically purred.

Hermione glared at him. “In what way, Mr. Zabini?”

“Perhaps I could assist the Founder?” He suggested. He turned and bowed again to Salazar.

“What does this wizard want?” Salazar asked with another heavy frown.

“To curry favour,” Hermione muttered at him in Old English. “He’s a pureblood and he was Sorted into your house,” she explained.

“You do not like him.” Salazar frowned at the wizard in front of him. He appeared to be well-dressed and seemed to have a polished air about him. He reminded Salazar of the courtiers at Harald’s court. Hermione had said that the wizard wished to curry Salazar’s favour. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Go away,” he said slowly and carefully in English.

Hermione muffled a whimper. “Salazar, Mr. Zabini is an important wizard,” she hissed at him in Old English. “His family is very influential in the Ministry. He could be useful to you.”

“Miss Granger is correct,” Blaise agreed in Old English. “I could be very useful to you, my lord.”

Hermione turned to stare at Zabini with wide eyes. He smirked back at her.

“How,” Hermione began and then faltered.

Zabini’s smirk grew. “That would be telling,” he said in English. He turned back to Salazar and switched back to Old English. “It would be my privilege to aid you in any way, my lord.”

Salazar scowled at him. “Go away,” he repeated in a deep, bass rumble.

Zabini’s gaze flicked to Hermione and he gave Salazar a small nod. “As you wish, my lord. Do keep me in mind should you need… assistance.”

Salazar’s eyes widened slightly and his scowl softened. He nodded back at Zabini. “I will.” Then he turned back to Hermione who was eyeing him warily.

“I should have known,” she muttered.

“Known what?” Salazar asked.

“Typical,” she huffed. She poked him in the chest. “You can’t just do whatever you want, you know. There are rules—laws.”

“I know,” Salazar growled. He snatched at her hand, holding it fast in his. He leaned forward until he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. “You are supposed to be teaching me all of them. Instead you sit in here, hiding from me, and doing _paperwork_ ,” he sneered the unfamiliar word.

“Well, I can’t do that now since you destroyed it,” she snapped at him. She tried breathing in and out through her nose to calm herself.

“Good.” Salazar gave her a smug look. “Now you can help me as you are supposed to do.”

Hermione glared at Salazar. “It isn’t that simple!”

“Granger!” Nithercott bellowed.

Hermione flinched and turned to level a fulminating glare at Salazar. “You are coming with me,” she snapped. “You can explain to my boss what has happened to all of my paperwork.”

Salazar narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips for a moment before he nodded. “Yes,” he decided.

He marched down the hall toward the source of the bellowing with Hermione hurrying after him protesting every step of the way. He walked into the office without knocking or being announced. Hermione closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to whatever deity might be listening before she slipped into the office after him.

“See here, who are you?” Nithercott blustered. He glowered at Salazar and then turned to glower at Hermione. “I called for you, Granger, not your latest boy toy.”

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose. “Mr. Nithercott, may I introduce Salazar Slytherin?” She asked as calmly as she could.

Mr. Nithercott’s face turned pale and then flushed darkly. “Slytherin?” He echoed faintly.

“Minister Shacklebolt sent you an inter-departmental memo about it,” Hermione prompted.

Nithercott began to shuffle papers on his desk frantically before pulling out a creased purple sheet. He frowned at the memo and then looked up at Hermione.

“It says here that you’re to rehabilitate Salazar Slytherin.” Mr. Nithercott tsked under his breath, and then glared at Hermione. “Two weeks,” he snapped.

“What?” Hermione blinked at him.

“That’s all I can spare you for. Two weeks should be long enough to teach him about the Statute of Secrecy,” Mr. Nithercott told her.

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed several times.

“What is the matter?” Salazar demanded impatiently.

Hermione blinked and turned to look up at Salazar. “He’s given me two weeks off to help you,” she whispered slowly as though she hardly dared to believe it were true.

Salazar smirked at her.

“Not one word,” she hissed at him as she passed by him.

 

/\/\/\/\

 

“Now, remember what we talked about,” Hermione reminded Salazar.

“I must speak quietly,” Salazar recited dutifully. He leveled a dark scowl in her direction.

“Now, I already have a membership to this library, so if you find any books you would like to read at length we can see if it’s possible to check them out. Some of the older, rarer books we will not be allowed to remove from the library,” Hermione lectured as they strode toward the building.

Salazar stopped and Hermione turned to see him staring at her with wide eyes.

“Can you say that again?” He asked.

“If there are books that you want to dwell on, I can check them out of the library for you,” Hermione explained. “The only ones we will not be able to take home are the older, rarer books and some of the reference tools.”

“You can remove books from the library and take them home?” Salazar asked with wonder in his voice.

“Yes, of course,” Hermione replied. She paused and peered closely at Salazar. “Why?”

“And this library... Muggles can access it?” Salazar pressed.

Hermione frowned up at him. “Yes they can. It is a Muggle public library.”

The library was a revelation for Salazar. That so many books could be located in just one place, and the knowledge that there were a number of libraries located all over what Hermione called ‘the United Kingdom’. He watched the witch flit from bookshelf to bookshelf navigating them with ease and skill. She seemed to know where each book might be found, and she tried to tempt him with a variety of them. She had found a reproduction of something she called the Exeter Book, and he was pleased to be able to read the words therein.

Privately, Salazar had begun to feel daunted by this new world. These Muggles had so much knowledge at their fingertips, and they were so well-educated, that he began to worry about how he might find a place in this time. Hermione had snorted at him and told him that he could rest on his reputation, but he didn’t want to do that. Salazar had always been a hard worker, a wizard who studied diligently and used his knowledge at the right place and time for the greatest effect. Yes, he had been accorded respect, but he had _earned_ that respect. None of these witches or wizards had ever drunk one of his brews, or used one of his charms or cantrips. They didn’t know him at all.

After the day spent in the public library, Salazar was quiet and withdrawn. It took the witch moving into his personal space and frowning up at him with worry in her eyes to snap him out of his mood.

“Salazar, are you well?” She asked him.

“Not really,” he admitted. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You say that the Muggleborn witches and wizards are treated poorly, and much of it is based on what I said a thousand years ago?”

Hermione nodded.

“But things have changed since then,” Salazar protested. “The Muggle children are all taught to read and write as wee babes. They are so much more prepared for Hogwarts than they were when I taught there.”

“True,” Hermione agreed. “But they are woefully ignorant of wizarding culture and its customs and mores. There is a culture shock when one attends Hogwarts because it is very different from this world.”

“It is different,” Salazar allowed, “but it is not lesser or inferior.”

A smile flitted across her lips, but it did not reach her eyes, which were filled with a tangle of emotions that Salazar could not quite decipher.

“What next?” Hermione asked with a brittle cheerfulness that did not fool Salazar.

“I think that I must learn your English,” Salazar decided.

Hermione’s brows drew together. “I’ve been teaching you modern English,” she pointed out.

Salazar nodded. “You have, but I must learn faster so that I can read all of these books. Is there a spell that can aid me?”

“I’m sure there is,” Hermione murmured almost to herself. She nibbled on her lower lip and her eyes grew thoughtful. “Perhaps in Harry’s library.”

“Harry? The wizard that you are always kissing? We do not need to go there,” Salazar decided.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “I kiss him on the cheek. You make it sound as though I’m mauling him or something.”

Salazar grunted noncommittally. He could not explain the feeling that gnawed his innards whenever Hermione stood on her tiptoes to brush her lips against Harry’s cheek. He only knew that he did not like it.

“Besides, Harry is at work. Ginny will be the only one at home at the moment,” Hermione explained. “Come along.” She tugged at his hand until he followed her reluctantly.

The dwelling of the much-kissed wizard Harry was in Muggle London. It was a strange looking place that Hermione explained was called a townhome. She introduced him to a pretty, red-haired witch who was bouncing a baby on one hip who had the same haphazard hair as the wizard Harry.

“This is Ginny, and that is young James,” Hermione explained carefully. “They are Harry’s wife and son.”

Salazar stared at them until Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. “What?” He snapped.

Hermione glared at him and then looked at Ginny and James. He bowed stiffly, and then he turned to glare at Hermione.

“If Harry is married, why are you always kissing him? Are you his leman?” He demanded while Hermione pushed him down a narrow hall.

“His _what_? That had better not mean what I think it means,” Hermione growled at him

“It means a woman that a man keeps for bedsport,” Salazar explained.

“Oh!” Hermione muffled a shriek of rage and jerked him around to glare up at him furiously. “Let me tell you something,” she hissed at him. “Harry is my _brother_. He’s a kindred spirit. I love him, sure, but I am _not_ his leman.” Then she drew herself up stiffly and leveled a chilling glare at him. “And in this time, you could just as easily be the leman as I could.”

Salazar sputtered for a few moments to cover his amusement—did Hermione not know that rich widows often kept handsome, male slaves as playthings? He coughed to clear his throat, and then he followed after Hermione docilely. This Harry was her brother. A smug smile stretched his lips and stayed there the entire day that they spent combing through books looking for a translation spell to help him learn this new, modern English.

Despite his best efforts, Salazar could not keep his mind off of the witch that sat across from him. His eyes were fixed on her face to catch every time she crinkled her nose or nibbled on her lower lip when she was deep in thought. The way the light in the library played off of her great mass of curls, picking out dark honey and amber strands among the rich brown of her hair. Several times she had caught him watching her and a pink blush stained her cheeks.

“Stop it,” she whispered at him glaring at him across the table.

He widened his eyes in an attempt to appear as innocent as possible. “Stop what?” He whispered back.

“Looking at me,” she hissed as quietly as she could.

One dark brow rose, almost of its own volition, and he made a show of averting his eyes. “This will make it difficult to speak to you in public,” he drawled. “Strangers will assume I speak to them.”

“Oh!” Hermione glared at him her cinnamon brown eyes spitting fire. “You know what I mean!”

“I’m afraid that I do not,” he countered. “Explain it to me.”

Power gathered around Hermione, crackling about her in a provocative display of her magic. Salazar could feel his own magic reacting to hers. Power filled him and his magic flexed in a subtle challenge to the witch. She stared at him in surprise.

“What’s happening?” She whispered.

“Your magic is sympathetic to mine,” he pointed out.

“Well, knock it off. We have researching to do,” Hermione told him with a frown.

Salazar shrugged and pulled his magic back. “As you will.”

Only the turning of pages and the scratch of quill on parchment could be heard. Salazar tried to concentrate on the task before him—finding a spell so that he could truly become a part of this world was becoming more important with each day. He could not help it if his thoughts kept straying to the witch who sat across from him. There was something about her that pulled at him.

The loud snap of a book being closed quickly drew his attention. A look of frustrated irritation flickered in Hermione’s eyes and then she sighed.

“That’s enough for today,” she told him with a tired smile.

He blinked at her in surprise. “But we’ve only just begun,” he protested.

She grinned at him and shook her head. “No, it’s past nine. Ginny’s been zinging me in the shoulder for about a half an hour now. She thinks we need to go eat and then get some sleep.”

“I do,” the redhead called from another room. “You can come back tomorrow, Hermione, you know that.”

“I know,” Hermione called back. She turned and gave Salazar a look of determination. “Two weeks. We have two weeks to find the answer.”

“We will find it,” Salazar swore to her. _We must_.

 

/\/\/\/\

 

The first week was frustrating in more ways than one. In the mornings, Hermione would take Salazar to different locations either in the Muggle world or the wizarding world. His progression with modern English was slow and laborious, but he was making headway. Even if they didn’t find a spell, Salazar would most likely be proficient in modern English within a year or so.

In the afternoon, they would always go to study at Grimmauld Place. The library had an extensive collection of Old English spells and journals, which Hermione had used when she had studied Old English at university. Salazar and she combed through the volumes carefully, looking for information that might ease his transition.

It was proving difficult to be around Salazar without touching him; a million times a day she found herself pulling her hand back from almost touching the wizard.

He had said that their magic was sympathetic, and Hermione had looked that up at the earliest opportunity. What she had found made her blush hotly and slam the book closed. Apparently it meant that they were... compatible in a variety of ways.

Usually magic users with sympathetic magic were drawn to one another, which might explain her compelling need to touch him.

But she was Hermione Granger for Merlin’s sake! She wasn’t going to swoon over the first wizard to quirk a brow and smirk at her. At least... that’s what she kept telling herself.

 

/\/\/\/\

 

 

“This is a dragon reserve,” Hermione explained in an undertone as they approached the ranger’s station.

“Is this work?” Salazar demanded. “You have two weeks’ holiday. You are supposed to be spending that time helping me,” he protested.

“This is not work,” Hermione retorted. “This is... well, it’s private.”

“Private?” Salazar repeated in a low growl. “What does that mean?”

Hermione sighed. “In your time, dragons roamed everywhere, yes?”

Salazar nodded. “They can be a great nuisance.”

“This is a reserve—a place for the dragons to live in peace without destroying villages and setting things on fire,” she explained.

Salazar’s eyes widened and he turned to look at the dragon reserve with interest. “You will show me,” he commanded.

“Of course,” Hermione agreed.

“Hermione?” Charlie called out from the ranger station.

“Charlie!” Hermione ran ahead and flung herself into his arms. During her apprenticeship with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures she had spent a six-month stint at the Romanian Dragon Reserve, and she and Charlie had grown quite close.

Charlie hugged her tightly and then kissed her soundly. He pulled back to look at her and grinned. “You’re looking well, Hermione.”

“Why are you always kissing wizards?” Salazar was scowling darkly at Charlie.

“This is Charlie, he is Ginny’s older brother,” Hermione introduced him. “Charlie, this is Salazar Slytherin.”

Salazar grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.

Charlie looked from Salazar to Hermione and his eyebrows rose in surprise. “Is this a joke?”

“I could duel you,” Salazar observed in a calm, cool drawl. “Then, if there were enough left of you to do so, you might consider whether or not I am a joke.”

“Salazar, behave,” Hermione hissed just as Charlie began to laugh.

The tour of the Romanian Dragon Reserve was more strained than Hermione had anticipated. Thank goodness Salazar became intrigued with a Chinese Fireball. Charlie tugged her away from Salazar and dragged her off to the side.

“He wants you, Hermione,” Charlie told her bluntly.

Hermione’s cheeks burned. “I know,” she whispered. She waved a hand absently while she tried to keep an eye on Salazar. “It’s because our magic is sympathetic, or something like that.”

Charlie watched her watching Salazar for a moment. “You do realize that sympathetic magic merely heightens attraction, right? I mean, if Voldemort showed up and you had sympathetic magic, you wouldn’t fall madly in love with him or anything.”

Hermione started and turned back to Charlie. “What?”

“He wants you for you. The sympathetic magic just... adds to it,” Charlie explained.

“Oh.” Hermione froze. _He wanted her_. Not because she was Hermione Granger or Harry Potter’s friend, or any of that. “ _Oh_.”

“What are you doing?” Salazar demanded suddenly when he realized that Charlie and Hermione had left him alone. “Are you kissing him again?”

“No,” Hermione protested. “I... we need to go home,” she decided.

“Home? But we still have to go to the library at Grimmauld Place,” Salazar reminded her.

“We have to go home,” Hermione repeated. She grabbed Salazar’s arm as she had longed to do for a week and thrilled to the little electrical crackle of magic between them. “Goodbye, Charlie.”

“Goodbye Hermione. It was a pleasure meeting you, Salazar,” Charlie called as Hermione practically dragged him to the Apparition point.

“What is going on?” Salazar protested. “Is something happening? Are you in danger?”

Quickly and efficiently, Hermione waved her wand over the both of them. They Apparated to Hermione’s fenced backyard, and Hermione hustled Salazar into the house.

“Stop pushing me,” Salazar growled and turned to face her with a scowl as she closed the door behind her. “What are you doing?”

Hermione grabbed the lapel of his robes and pulled him toward her so that she could smash her lips against his. One hand slid up into his thick, silky hair. grabbing a handful and pulling him even closer so that she didn’t have to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him. He froze against her and she began to pull back to see if she’d completely misread the situation, profusely apologize, and then die of embarrassment in a quiet corner somewhere, but that seemed to spur him into action. He picked her up, slammed her against the door they’d just walked through, and proceeded to kiss the very breath out of her. He pulled back to frown at her.

“You are feeling well?” He asked carefully in modern English. “This isn’t a potion or spell?”

Hermione shook her head. “No,” she gasped.

“Good,” Salazar growled, and went back to kissing her breathless.

Frantically, her fingers pulled at his robes, and once he understood what she was trying to do, there was a ripping noise as Salazar tried to pull his robes off. His shirt half hung off of him, and Hermione hummed her approval as she ran her fingers over the bulging muscles of his biceps. He growled into her mouth, nipping at her lower lip before he trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

“Salazar,” she panted helplessly.

He crooned wordlessly before nosing at her collar, his teeth pulling the fabric to the side to allow him greater access. Hermione fumbled with the buttons of her blouse before cursing under her breath and popping several of them off in her haste to remove her shirt. Salazar made a noise of approval before he tugged her chemise off of her and struggled to divest her of her bra. Her fingers flexed helplessly on the thick muscles of his shoulders as his mouth closed around the tip of one breast. She tried to kiss, lick, and nibble every inch of his skin that she could reach. Salazar lifted his head and Hermione whimpered at the look in those green-gold eyes.

“Are you sure about this, sweeting?” He asked roughly — slipping into Old English in his eagerness.

Hermione nodded. “I’m sure,” she whispered.

With a muffled curse Salazar set Hermione down only briefly so that he could help her out of her clothes and rid himself of his own. Then he lifted her in his arms again and pressed her against the door. Hermione could feel the cool, carved wood of the door pressing into the flesh of her back and bum, but it was nothing compared to the feel of Salazar’s heated flesh pressed against hers. She could feel the hot, hard length of him, and Hermione gasped as he slid inside of her. They moaned together at the feel of it, and then Salazar began to move inside of her.

At another time, the solid, rhythmic pounding of her door might have been embarrassing, but Hermione reveled in it. Her fingernails dug into Salazar’s shoulders and she clung to him for dear life. Salazar’s fingers dug into her hips, cupping her bum, holding her in place as he pistoned into her. Their magic slid along her nerves, making all of her senses feel more alive than she ever had in her life. She tightened her muscles around him, and was rewarded with a strangled groan.

“Salazar,” she gasped as he picked up the pace.

“Tell me you’re close,” he begged.

“I’m close,” she promised.

“Thank the gods,” he muttered.

Carefully, he worked his hand between them, his callused thumb pressing against the sensitized flesh of Hermione’s clitoris. Her legs tightened around him and she keened when Salazar added a little hip swivel that made her see stars. With a bellow that made her ears ring, Salazar took them both over the edge. He collapsed against her, keeping her pressed tightly against the door. She gasped for air taking great, deep lungsful.

“Wow. That was... wow.” Hermione muttered into Salazar’s shoulder when she was no longer worried about hyperventilating.

“You were also wow,” Salazar murmured. He pulled back to look at her with a worried frown. “You are all right? I did not hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Hermione replied. When he moved back and Hermione was able to put her feet down her legs wobbled slightly and she laughed. “Mostly fine,” she amended.

Salazar scooped her up and carried her down the hall.

“Hey, you don’t need to do this,” she protested. “I’m fine, really.”

Salazar looked down at her and cocked a brow. “You do not wish to continue?”

“Continue?” Hermione squeaked. She stared up at Salazar in surprise. “You mean... _again_? Now?”

“Are you too tired?” Salazar asked with a worried frown. “Are you certain I didn’t hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Great. I would be happy to... to continue,” Hermione babbled and then blushed furiously. “I just wasn’t expecting that you would want to, um, continue.”

Salazar snorted in amusement. “I have a feeling that it will be a very long time before I no longer wish to bed you, witch. Mayhap even a lifetime,” he added under his breath.

Hermione blinked and then wound her arms about his neck. “Me too,” she told him with a shy smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
